To Dream a Life into Being #wonder #nature #being

The river beside the trail

Or perhaps I should say, “To walk a life into being.”

My husband and I spent the 4th in nature. It was the perfect way for us to express a reverence for what feels worthy, real, and based upon love. We brought the dogs along, which meant a perfect day for our canine companions as well.

Sitting on our front porch with a cup of tea dividing us, I scrolled through the “All Trails” app on my phone until I found one that just felt right. A new trail, to us, not too far away. And so, after breakfast was consumed, water bottles filled, and a couple of granola bars tucked in pockets, we set off in a race to the “minivan.”

We no longer have a minivan, but my husband and I love to shout out, “go straight to the minivan,” to incite the dogs and annoy the teenagers. The said teenagers, though, had their own plans for the day. Still, it brought a smile to our faces, and, naturally the dogs’ who could not have been happier. There’s nothing like a good car ride as long as the destination is not the vets.

With windows cranked to snout-level, we were off on our new adventure. The day perfect according to the weather. The high hovering around 80, the breeze just enough to keep most of the bugs away, and the sky as blue as our children’s eyes. We did miss them, but sometimes it’s nice to have that time to recall how you began.

And for us, it began 31 years ago. I’m going to take a slight pause to let that sink in…

We were at the place where our son is temporarily residing, the St. Paul’s School Advanced Studies Program. It was July 4th, 1991, and although I can’t tell you the exact details about the weather, I can recall in full-color the certain sundress I borrowed from a friend to impress a boy I had seen on the baseball field at recreation time. We met over bowls of ice cream, and the rest is our story.

So here we were, 31 years later, celebrating our story in the quiet way we knew best. Out in nature. We parked beside a wooden sign in front of a field of grasses, milkweed, and butterflies and suddenly I found myself falling in love, again. This land, not wholly ours, but from which we are all birthed, enfolding us like a mother who forgives even if she never forgets. And we, walking upon her, opened to love.

And wild wonder.

I was 48, 17, and 4. All ages wrapped up into one body, which is the way wonder finds us. Time slips past meaning and nothing else matters. The body’s bounds tangible, yet free. And the mind, that illusive organ without a physical structure, finds its tune and begins to sing of home. There it nothing better.

Life unties its binds in these moments and pure being erupts into the dream without the nightmare. As we walked that trail through the butterfly fields and into the woods beside a river, I began to dream of Life as it opened before us. The smile, spreading ever-wide upon my face. My body alive with the energy of being. And that vision that enfolded wider with each footstep, imprinted in full-color upon the canvas of my mind.

What a gift of a day.

The Stir of Possibility #spring #wonder #rebirth

The unexpected gift of blooming crocuses was found yesterday when hanging laundry

I don’t know why I am feeling it. There’s no rational explanation. Yet, there it is, the feeling of possibility stirring the cells into the flutter of excitement. Perhaps it is the quickening pulse of Spring that vibrates within my being. The Earth’s re-awakening becoming my own. It is, after all, the time of growth and movement. But not all moments are like this one.

Today has no set agenda for me. This morning, after I ensured that my daughter had a hearty breakfast and everything she needed before she headed off to take her SATs, I checked my phone and realized it was unlikely the call would arrive. Today, it seems, I am not needed outside of the home. I have started subbing at the middle school in town and usually the call for assistance arrives by 7am.

The day spreads before me a promise only I can fill. Some days this might bring the feeling of unease. The unknown agenda pressuring the need to be useful. Even though I am a Virgo, the mutable element of water flows strongly through me. I find grounding in routines when life feels uncomfortable, but there is the ever-present spark of magic waiting to be ignited.

There is something wondrous about a day unfolding without knowing what each minute will bring. Time is freed up to capture and weave together an infinite number of patterns of creation. It becomes the choice of the seeker to choose which path in this labyrinth to walk. We become poised, ready to receive what awaits. And how we navigate this spread of possibilities is also up to us.

When we open to the agenda-less, we allow that spark of magic to be ignited within. The outer world responds to our desire to be awakened into joy. We learn and discover in subtle ways that reveal to us their immeasurable value. It need not be, and often is not, a radical offering that awaits us. Most days we do not win the “lottery.” Most of us never will. How many people who do receive an over-load of abundance all at once know what to do with it to find true joy?

It is the offerings that may, at first glance appear tiny, that reveal the hidden gems that spark the life within us. Overload often brings overstimulation and chaos. The body and mind can only process so much at once. Conversely, one silken moment threading into a new one, nearly invisible in its form, can become something exquisite. One step into the unknown day leads us into a possibility offered without the force of our own creation. It becomes a gift, an offering to unfold.

As I sit here with one dog on either side of me, and no middle school classes to cover or yoga classes to teach, I hear the soft rhythm of breath mixing with the hum of the artificial life of my refrigerator. Choices unfold before me, but only a few have been revealed. The cat who fears the dog calls out to be visited, and I have decided that I will choose his offering first. But what is offered next, I am content with not knowing. It is the possibility that sparks the quickening, not the knowing.